Shattering Expectations
by spittingllama7856
Summary: Ginevra was young and naive once, but then she grew up. Her son was her prince, growing up hearing tales about a family of three who lived in their kingdom. But one day, the stories stopped. His life went on, but then he met someone who could've come straight from a storybook. But that's just it. The Potters weren't fairytales, and there's more to the story than meets the eye.
1. Chapter 1

_This is written for the Winter Challenge of The Houses Competition. I combined "Happily Ever After" from the Trope Challenge and "Royalty AU" from the AU Challenge. I hope my definition of HEA is the same as yours. Word count: 6126_

 _A/N_ _: I was very inspired by the plot of_ Aladdin _to write this. At first, my original ideas for a plot were so similar to_ Aladdin _that I was worried, but this new plot just smacked me over the head._

 _Yeah, I know all of their names don't really fit with the Aladdin-ish culture, but how else are you and I going to know who I am writing? Ginny could be Molly, for all you know. Also, "gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat" is a line from the song_ One Jump Ahead _in the movie_ Aladdin _. I know this doesn't really fit into history . . . let's just pretend it does._

 _I was super excited to write this! PLEASE review! I might cry tears of joy if you do. Thanks so much to Aya Diefair for beta-ing this!_ :)

 _Warnings_ _: child abuse (minor, does not play a big role in the plot)_

 _Notes:_ _minor character deaths (or major deaths, depending on how you look at it), the canon timeline/ages/family trees are all switched up, Ginny is spoiled, Molly is dead, Ginny loves Harry, I'm eviiil mwahah, Ginny marries a Malfoy, Ginny has some offensive opinions about some of the characters, arranged marriages, sort of HEA, slash pairing (one-sided), and there's a pov switch (sorry)._

 _Disclaimer:_ _I am not making any profit by writing this, it is purely to keep myself amused. I do not own Warner Bros. and I am not JK Rowling. And I don't own Disney's Aladdin, and I wouldn't be here if I did. This is just fanfiction, people._

 _Note (April 5, 2018): The original one-shot has been divided up into a multi-chapter story to better fit the story flow I am hoping to achieve._

A child with blond hair and brown eyes sat in front of his young mother, listening to her tell a story, all of his attention devoted to her words. She was the prettiest lady he'd ever seen. Even her name—Ginevra—was pretty.

"They were the most honest people I had the pleasure of meeting, despite having so little in their life. It was amazing to see all of the great things they'd done without having all the possessions we do," she said softly, her red hair sweeping over her shoulders as she leaned forward and brushed her son's hair out of his eyes.

He gaped at her.

"How?" he asked in his tiny, adorable voice.

"I . . . I don't really know. I don't think I'd still be in this palace if I did, but then I wouldn't have you," she said truthfully.

Her precious child was the only great thing to come from everything that had happened six years ago, when she had been forced to marry a man she did not love. But if he is what she got in return, she did not mind living in a loveless marriage.

"Do you think you'll ever see them again, mother?" her son asked, his brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Ginevra bit her lip as her heart stuttered in her chest.

 _No_ , she thought. _I won't ever see them again._

"Maybe," she said instead, smiling as the boy's face lit up and he stood up quickly, running up to his mother and hugging her tightly.

She wrapped her arms around him as he tried to climb into her lap. She pulled him up so he could rest his head on her shoulder, and she stroked his hair.

"I'm so happy you're here, mother," he said. He was always telling her that she was beautiful or that her smile was better than a million others.

He was sweet, and Ginevra was thankful. She had been so worried that he'd be like her husband or her brother Ronald.

She didn't know what she did to deserve her little angel, but Ginevra was eternally grateful for her husband, if only because he helped make her tiny miracle. She did care for her husband, yes, but it was very difficult to forgive him for everything he had done.

She held her blond boy closer and couldn't help but think about a woman who once had a child, a baby boy much like her own, and her heart thudded painfully in her chest.

 _It's not my fault,_ she thought, believing that she was lying to herself. Maybe she was.

* * *

Six Years Ago

Ginevra stared at the gardens below her from the balcony of her bedroom, arms resting on the stone railing. She frowned, her eyebrows furrowed, as she watched her brothers run around the garden. They were acting like children, and they were older than Gin'. She was certainly not a child, at age eighteen and soon to be married.

Well, as soon as she met her suitor, that is.

Gin' was bored with all the men who came to her. She wanted someone exciting, who could make her laugh and sweep her off her feet. She knew it was ridiculous, but she didn't want to ask Fleur—her brother William's wife—about realistic marriage, because she just didn't like the blonde woman.

Her other brothers were all married, but not exactly to respectable women, like Fleur at least was. There was Hermione, Ronald's wife, and she was too annoying to be a lady. Angelina was wedded to George; she was pregnant every ten months and it seemed rather improper to Gin'. Charlie was known for stealing girls' hearts, but then he settled with a tramp by the name of Penelope. Perseus was engaged to marry someone named Luna, who Gin' had met only once and instantly disliked because the woman was simply too odd.

Even Fred had been married to a Miss Katie—before they both fell ill and died when Gin' was ten years old. Ginevra's mother herself was also dead, so there was no point in looking for help _there_.

That left Ginevra to be the last one to marry, and she had to do it soon. She wanted to get someone witty or intelligent, but her father put his foot down after she rejected her tenth suitor. _He_ was choosing her fiancé now, and Gin' had no say in it.

It was _so_ unfair.

Ginevra turned away from her brothers with a drawn-out sigh, about to go back inside her bedroom to try to find something to occupy herself with, when something glinted in the corner of her vision.

Intrigued, Gin' turned, and found herself staring out at the vast town outside the palace. She'd never been there; her father didn't permit it after the death of her mother. She knew she shouldn't even entertain the idea of going past the walls surrounding the palace, but she couldn't help but imagine.

She bit her lip as she thought about it. With every passing moment, sneaking out of this boring palace might be the most exciting thing she could possibly do to cure her boredom. She knew exactly who to go to. Sometimes having brothers was great.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, let me get this straight, you want me to basically hoist you over the wall while our father is distracted?" George asked, staring at her incredulously as he held his—what was it, his sixth? Seventh?—child.

"Yes. Exactly," Gin' said firmly. George grinned, and she knew she was going to get what she wanted.

"Alright. I can do it this afternoon," her brother agreed, and Ginevra nodded shortly before walking back to her room to pack.

She was going to need so many things to prepare herself. And she definitely couldn't leave her jewels behind; she needed those. Oh, and her silk scarves!

In all of her excitement, Gin' had probably forgotten that she was supposed to meet the man she was to marry that night. She could be blamed, but George also forgot about it, so she was excused.

All that he knew was that she was _leaving the walls_ and she was going to have fun. Once he hoisted her over the wall, he stared at the rope in horror as he realized what he just did.

Looking down at two of his younger children, Fred and Lucy, they gave two dopey expressions. They threaded their tiny fingers through his in response to his sigh.

"Don't ever tell your mother about this," George said, and he got two "yes, father"s in return.

* * *

Ginevra had seen a lot of wonderful things in her life, being a princess and all, but the marketplace in her kingdom was spectacular. It was chaotic, and people were everywhere, but it was everything she'd been missing her entire life.

Of course, there were men who eyed her like she was their next meal, and the vendors were a little too smelly for her to fully appreciate what they were selling, but she thought she could deal with it. There were so many colors that even the dead animals looked amazing.

She noticed that the crowds of buyers thinned in the places where it was dark, and narrow alleys branched off from those areas and led to even darker places. She shuddered as she thought about what might be down there.

It was in one of these shaded areas that she saw a little boy sitting on the hard ground, staring up at a food seller with puppy-dog eyes.

"Please, sir, just a bite," he begged.

He couldn't have been older than six, and yet she watched the vendor spit in this child's face before raising his large hand and bringing it down on the kid's head. The boy staggered and sunk to the ground, whimpering as he coward before the man.

Ginevra was beyond furious. It was unacceptable to abuse a kid like that!

She shoved past the few stragglers in front of her and came to a stop in front of the vendor, staring up into his face with a curl on her lip. As tempting as it was to slap him, she wasn't stupid. She couldn't just _hit_ someone.

"How much is a loaf of bread?" she asked as politely as she could.

He looked at her with a glint in his eye she'd seen a few times in her suitors, and she was disgusted.

 _This man_ is _disgusting_ , she amended silently.

"For you, three reales." The way he said it made it seem like he was doing her a favor.

It was probably overpriced, but she wasn't about to argue; she just wanted to offend him.

She raised an eyebrow and reached into her bag, pulling out the string of jewels she had brought with her. She really didn't need them.

"Then this should be enough for ten loaves, and a few apples," she said, her voice and stance unwavering.

The man flushed darkly and took the jewels from her. He turned to his cart and gave her the food, much to her pleasure, all the while glaring at her. Of course, she'd probably just fed his family for a month, but she humiliated him in front of a few other vendors, and clearly bought the food for the kid who he just assaulted.

She stuffed the food in her bag.

"Thank you," Gin' said sweetly, before she turned to the little boy who'd been watching them with wide eyes.

She leaned down and reached a hand out for him to grab.

"Hello. I want to help you," she said softly, her hair falling around her face as she smiled softly at the boy.

He tentatively grabbed her hand, and she pulled him to his feet quite easily.

"Do you have somewhere where I can put all of this bread down?" she asked quietly, and he nodded, seemingly lost for words, before he pulled her down the street.

She giggled and kept up with him, eyeing everything that they passed.

The sky was blood-red with the setting sun, the temperature dropping as it got darker. The shadows grew longer and she became slightly uneasy. The kid seemed to be perfectly fine, though, and she trusted him more than herself at the moment.

"My name is Ginevra," she said, and the kid looked over his shoulder, flashing a small smile.

"Hello, Gin'," he said, probably shortening her name because it was easier for him to say. "I am Colin."

"Colin, huh?" she asked, smiling slightly. "That's a nice name."

"Yes, thank you," Colin said, and remained silent for the rest of their walk.

The buildings on either side of them grew taller and wider as they neared what Gin' could only assume was the area with the most housing. Clotheslines were hanging above them, crossing from one window to another, blocking out the stars like a canopy.

Colin kept winding down the street until the reached one of those dark, narrow alleys that gave Gin' the creeps. She hesitated, and Colin turned to look at her.

"It is okay. My family is here," he said reassuringly, nodding with a tiny smile on his face.

She bit her lip and continued to walk with him, and they came to a stop a few yards from where they entered.

Sleeping against the buildings, huddled together for warmth, was a group of people who Colin must've considered his family. A hand landed on Ginevra's shoulder and she turned sharply, startled.

It was like she was looking in a mirror, except the woman who was staring back at her was much thinner and had green eyes.

"I saw what you did for Colin. I wanted to thank you," the woman said, and Gin' relaxed. Colin's hand slipped out of hers. She saw him gently stirring the people awake.

"I'm sure you would've done the same thing," Gin' said. The woman, practically dressed in rags, was making her slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, no, because I don't have the wealth to do that. Gotta eat to live—"

"Gotta steal to eat," a dark-haired man came up behind her and finished her sentence, as if they'd said it before. "We probably would've just distracted the vendor and stole the food. But yes, we would've helped Colin in our own way," he said.

"Ah," Gin' said, at a loss for words.

Both the man and woman wore similarly amused expressions on their gaunt faces.

"I'm Lily Potter," the woman said, saving Gin' from any awkwardness. "This is my partner, James Potter," she continued, nodding to the man.

"I'm Gin'," the princess said and Lily nodded, as if her name explained everything.

"You brought food, right?" James asked, and Ginevra started handing out the loaves of bread to the ten-or-so people in the alley.

Colin came up to her, grabbed some without a word, and started passing the bread out. Normally, Gin' would be appalled at his lack of manners, but the people here were clearly starving.

She also had a soft-spot for the little brunette.

Lily plopped herself down next to a bundle of blankets, and James took a seat opposite of her. He reached into the blankets and brought out a baby. There was a living _human being_ in a tiny blanket that probably didn't offer any warmth. Ginevra couldn't help but stare.

James cradled the child in his arms as Lily tore up the bread into tiny pieces.

"Sit with us," Lily said, her tone not offering any argument.

Gin' awkwardly did as she was told, sitting in front of the three of them and trying not to wince as she eyed the dirty ground. This was one of her best outfits.

Not that Gin' didn't bring a spare.

"This is my son, Harry," Lily said, tilting her head toward the child in James's arms. "Normally, Alice—the woman sitting next to Colin—takes care of him when I am busy," she continued.

Gin' looked behind her and sought out Colin, and saw a dirty woman sitting next to him. She was laughing and staring at the bread as if it was a miracle. Gin' supposed it might be a one to her.

"She seems nice," Ginevra said, for lack of anything else to say.

She looked at the couple again. James was nodding and handing Harry over to Lily.

"Alice isn't able to have children," James said. "But she wanted to. She's always willing to take care of Harry for us."

Gin' frowned a bit and looked at Alice again, taking in her appearance. In the palace, the women were practically only there to have kids—it's what they were born to do. But Alice didn't look like she was ashamed or embarrassed for being infertile (Gin' assumed).

In fact, Alice looked happy as she carefully nibbled on the bread. It was like she was just grateful for the food she had and the people around her.

"When I was younger," Gin' started to say, slowly. "I always disliked children. I'm not quite sure how to take care of them." She didn't know why she was saying it, really, but she did anyways.

Abruptly, Lily leaned forward pushed Harry into Ginevra's arms, much to her surprise. She nearly dropped the baby, but then Lily's hands were there to guide Ginevra's arms into place.

Gin' was transfixed on the baby in her arms. He had small tufts of messy black hair on his head, his lips naturally formed into a pout. He was the most adorable thing Gin' had ever seen.

Her hair fell down around his tiny body, like a curtain. She held him a little closer, enjoying the warmth he brought.

Her heart melted when Harry sneezed and opened his eyes slowly. They were bright green, like Lily's, and he smiled at her with his tiny little mouth. She fell for the precious little angel in her arms.

"Oh," Gin' whispered in surprise.

She heard Lily chuckle.

"Babies are not so bad," James said.

Ginevra nodded.

"How old is he?" Gin' asked, her voice quiet and awed.

Harry was grabbing at her hair with tiny fingers, yanking gently.

"Six months," Lily said proudly.

Gin' lifted her head and grinned at the other woman, somehow feeling closer to her now that she'd held the woman's child.

"We got lucky. Harry's a good baby and sleeps all the time, see," James informed Gin'.

She smiled softly and looked down at the green-eyed boy, only to find that he was asleep again, and Gin' realized that she'd been rocking him as she held him.

"When Colin was born, he cried all the time. I was closer to your age at that time," Lily said, amusement in her voice.

"I-I never knew that this is what it's like," Gin' told them, looking back and forth between them with large eyes.

She wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about.

Lily and James shared a look, one heavy with unsaid words.

"Yes, we realized that," James said, not unkindly.

He held out his arms, and Gin' gently handed his baby back.

"Look, Gin', I'm going to be honest with you," Lily said. "It's probably best if you go back to wherever you came from. You don't belong here."

Gin' stared at her. She felt strangely sad at the thought of parting from Lily, James, and Harry. She bit her lip, then reached into her bag. She'd brought so many luxurious things that she didn't need.

Ginevra handed Lily the expensive scarves she'd taken with her. Lily stared at them in amazement.

"Here. So you . . . so you don't get cold," Gin' said.

A tear ran down Lily's face, which she hastily wiped away, and smiled weakly at her. Gin' stood before turning away from the couple. She didn't think that she could touch someone so deeply just by giving them a gift.

"Colin!" James called, and the boy came running.

"Yes?" he asked expectantly.

"Will you take Gin' back to the market?" James asked softly, and Colin eagerly nodded.

He grabbed Ginevra's hand and started forward quickly.

As they neared the end of the alley, she glanced back to Lily to see her wrapping Harry delicately in the scarves to keep him warm. Ginevra smiled to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I'm so sorry about this! When I went back and divided the one-shot into a multi-chapter format, I totally left this part out! It . . . was surprisingly not noticeable at all. That was my bad, sorry!_

* * *

Getting over the wall without help was a lot harder than Gin' thought it was going to be. After about fifteen minutes of grunting and sweating, she finally hoisted herself back into the gardens. She spent another five minutes panting in the grass, lying on her back.

It was probably around midnight when she was able to climb the rope George had left for her to get back into her bedroom. She was panicking slightly, because she hadn't planned on being gone for so long, or to have given away some of her most prized possessions. Someone would notice both her absence and the disappearance of the jewels.

 _Oh, well,_ she thought.

She quickly prepared herself to sleep, cleaning herself up. She felt much more refreshed after bathing and brushing her hair until it shined.

She was just about to lay down when there was a rapping at her door, and she nearly yelped. There was a heavy weight in her stomach as she approached the door, her heart pounding in her chest.

Ginevra hesitantly opened the door, peeking her head out first. She gulped.

Her father was scowling down at her, a dangerous glint in his eyes that she'd seen only once before when Charlie had announced his engagement to a commoner.

"Hello, father," Gin' said meekly.

She curtsied, as her father always preferred her to do in greeting. She'd learned day after day how to act like a lady in the presence of her father, and then how to _be_ a lady in the presence of a suitor. They were two different things.

 _Oh. The suitor. Oh, no_ , she thought, her heart thundering now.

"Ginevra, our guest has been waiting for two hours. Two hours!" her father growled as she bit her lip.

"I'm sorry, father, I-I forgot—"

"Ginevra, that doesn't matter to him!" he hissed, sounding frantic.

Gin' looked up at her father, confused. "Get dressed into something appropriate and come to the sitting room immediately!" he ordered, and left quickly.

Her father seemed . . . _frightened_ , and that made Gin' afraid, too.

* * *

Meeting her suitor was one of the oddest experiences of her life. He was possibly a few years older than herself, with neatly-groomed white-blond hair. His skin was smooth and the color of alabaster; he was most likely a foreigner. Even his clothing was different from hers.

Ginevra took in his appearance with widening eyes. Well, she supposed that he looked intelligent. There was _that_.

"Princess Ginevra," he greeted, a small, amused smile on his face.

He had an accent; she could hear the slight lilt in his words. As she neared him, she noticed that his eyes were a beautiful gray color, but they remained cold and closed off even as she offered her kindest smile.

"Ginevra, this is Lucius Malfoy," her father said, standing off to the side.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Mister Malfoy," Gin' said, seriously meaning every word.

Something in his posture frightened her.

 _How can I marry a man like this?_ Gin' wondered desperately.

"Please call me Lucius, Ginevra. We are going to be married," he stated.

His voice was like cold water as it washed over Gin'. She couldn't place his accent, but she _could_ hear the annoyance in his voice. She looked towards her father with panicked eyes. She didn't know what to do; it was like Lucius had robbed her of all thought.

Her father, the most powerful and influential man she knew, averted his gaze and fidgeted with his thumbs. He didn't know what to do, either. She was on her own. She took a breath and willed herself to respond politely and intelligently, like she was taught to do.

Lucius was just a man. She grew up with seven of those. _Everything is fine._

* * *

Ginevra cradled a six-month-old Draco in her arms, cooing as she smiled down at him. He was her entire world, the light of her life.

She'd been married to Lucius for a year before she got pregnant. As cold as Lucius was most of the time, when she told him he was going to be a father, his entire face lit up with joy and excitement. It was the first time she'd seen him so happy.

It made Gin' decide that she could learn to love him, if he could love his child as much as she did.

Her hair fell down around Draco, like it did two years ago when she held Harry. She wondered what Lily and James were doing. If Lily was holding Harry in her lap? If Colin was still begging for scraps?

It made Ginevra's heart ache as she thought of their thin frames and gaunt faces. She hoped that they were still out there, alive and well.

Draco sneezed, and Ginevra's attention was drawn back to her brown-eyed boy.

* * *

Ginevra Malfoy was rocking Draco back and forth in his cradle when she heard Lucius's voice from the hallway. She was in her bedroom after trying—and failing—to get some rest as Draco finally fell asleep. She was too tired to move from the bed, but she couldn't sleep.

"—What are they in for?" Lucius's voice drifted down the hall and through the open bedroom door.

Ginevra's curiosity spiked.

"Thievery." Gin' knew that voice: it was Ronald's.

She didn't know why he was taking to Lucius; the two of them could hardly stand each other.

"What did they steal?" Lucius drawled.

That was his impatient voice.

"Multiple apples, loaves of bread, and scarves," Ronald replied.

Ginevra felt her heart jolt. The words sparked something in her memory of Colin, passing out bread; of Lily, wrapping Harry in beautiful, expensive scarves; of all their faces lighting up with joy at the sight of a fresh meal she gave them.

"Are they being fed?" Lucius asked after a short pause.

"No," Ronald replied, without hesitating.

"Good. If they're coughing, I don't want to waste resources on them," her husband said, and she could imagine him nodding curtly.

Her stomach rolled as her horror grew, the words Lucius had said repeating in her head.

"The guards . . ." Ronald trailed off.

He sounded rather uncomfortable.

"Yes, Weasley?" Lucius asked, his voice cutting through the pause.

"They told me that one of the women looks very much like Ginevra," Ronald said quietly.

Gin' had to strain her ears in order to hear him. As she registered the words, her heart constricted.

"So? My wife is not a tramp. Kill them, Weasley. I don't want to spend any more of my time on sick prisoners that happen to resemble my wife," Lucius snapped.

"Yes, of course, Malfoy," Ronald said.

Ginevra didn't want to listen anymore. She clamped her hands over her ears and rolled over on the bed, trying to get their conversation out of her head.

She knew who they were talking about, now. Lily could've passed for her twin. Gin' had given her scarves to the Potters—to Harry. She'd bought them bread and apples.

The death of the Potters was all her fault, she knew.

She also knew she'd probably never forgive Lucius for this, not even until the day she died.


	4. Chapter 4

Fifteen Years Later

Draco didn't understand what his uncle George found so funny about his question. At sixteen years old, Draco was restless, which was understandable. He'd never been outside the walls—mainly because of his father—and he wanted to have an adventure.

It seemed perfectly reasonable to Draco that he ask his mischievous uncle to hoist him over the wall while Lucius was distracted.

And now George was laughing like it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Draco was both offended and embarrassed. He was blushing—something he had absolutely no control over, apparently.

"What's so funny?" Draco grumbled, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

He'd already packed everything he was going to need.

"Like mother, like son," George said, wiping a tear away.

Draco stared at him in confusion, then shook his head. Hardly anyone knew what George was talking about half of the time, anyways.

"So, are you going to help me or not?" he asked, exasperated.

"Yes. I'm not exactly young anymore, though. I have to go fetch some of my offspring," George said, winking.

Draco nodded, feeling himself blush again, then proceeded to impatiently wait for ten minutes for George to come back.

"Fred, Lucy," Draco acknowledged with a tilt of his head as his uncle and cousins arrived in the garden.

It didn't take them long to get Draco over the wall; he was a pretty decent climber and very lean. He sat on the stone and looked back at his cousins and uncle.

Draco heard his cousins say: "We know; we are never telling mother about this," before he jumped down onto the other side of the wall.

 _Free at last._

* * *

Walking through the marketplace, Draco was in awe. There were so many people, and it was so colorful, unlike the palace where everything was white.

The sky was dark by the time the crowds of people started to thin out, and Draco had bought many, many things that he probably didn't need. A jade necklace for mother, a comb for himself, some sort of card game for uncle George, a loaf of bread—just in case . . .

Draco was very distracted by the items in his arms, and was walking without looking where he was going. How was he supposed to know that someone would come running right in front of him, fleeing from the royal guards?

Draco's stuff was thrown to the ground when he collided with a brown-haired man, and was knocked on the ground as a black-haired peasant crashed into him from the side.

Draco yelped, pinned under the boy with black hair as the guards surrounded the three of them. They all looked very menacing—dark grins on their faces—until Draco shoved the man off of him and stood up, straightening out his clothing.

The two commoners were sitting on the ground, looking very displeased with Draco and each other. They couldn't seem to decide who to glare at.

The guards stopped, suddenly looking very frightened as they realized who Draco was. He eyed the items he'd bought, scanning the filthy ground for the jade necklace—

Draco shrieked.

"You idiots!" he yelled, addressing the guards.

It was something Lucius always told him; when you're angry, take it all out on your soldiers and not your people. "You shattered mother's new necklace!"

"W-we're sorry, sir!" said one of the shorter, younger guards.

He knelt in submission, his peers did the same. Draco wasn't used to the treatment, as it was always something that people did for his father and not him; he wasn't as important.

The two peasants were looking at him in amazement. Draco tried not to preen.

"We weren't aware that you are allowed out of the palace," another guard spoke up, and Draco turned his sharp brown eyes to him.

"Excuse me? Father explicitly told me that all of you imbeciles were informed that I was given new privileges!" Draco said haughtily, in his best impression of his father.

Of course, he was lying through his teeth, and if his family ever found out, he'd be dead, but he was having an adventure. An _actual adventure._

"We're sorry, sir," chorused the guards.

"Well?" Draco snapped, hands on his hips. "What are all of you still doing here?"

"Sir, we caught these two stealing," one of the younger guards piped up.

Draco raised one pale eyebrow.

"Stealing what?" he inquired, crossing his arms.

"Clothing, sir," the guard replied.

"Is there proof of this, or were you just bored?" Draco drawled.

The peasants in question were staring at each other with wide eyes, still on the ground.

"We have proof!" the guard said, indignant.

Draco waited expectantly for the older man to actually _show him_ the proof. When all he did was keep quiet, Draco scoffed

"Well? Where is it?" he asked, irritated.

It was really easy to be annoyed at the guards, and Draco now understood why Lucius was yelling at them all the time.

"Oh!" the guard blushed deeply as he realized what Draco had been waiting for. "It's somewhere on the ground, sir. The thief was carrying it when he bumped into you."

Draco looked down at the street, along with the other men, and saw lots of things there. The guard frowned, probably realizing that there were a lot of clothes on the ground.

Draco sniffed as he thought about the precious cloth he'd bought now filthy.

"It's that vest over there, sir," another guard said, pointing. Draco followed his gaze, and the peasants seemed to hold their breath as he stared at the vest in thought.

"No. I bought that for my uncle," Draco said.

He vaguely remembered picking it up. Or maybe he didn't. He wasn't quite sure, honestly. He'd stopped caring about the accusation at that point

"Perhaps it was that cloth hat then?" suggested yet another royal guard.

Draco shook his head.

"Oh, no. I purchased that for my cousin Fred," he said in dismissal.

The peasants looked faintly amused now, which made Draco try very hard to keep a smile off his face.

"Sir, there are so many things in the street that we can't be sure—"

"Well, then there's no point having you around, is there?" Draco cut him off, a cruel smile on his face.

He learned it from his father, to strike fear into the hearts of grown men. It was very useful, as the guard's face paled.

"I-I'm sorry?" he stammered.

"Get out of my sight," Draco said sharply, nose held high in the air.

The guards scrambled up and hastily fled, terrified expressions on their faces. Draco blinked, wondering if they ever bothered to move that quickly when they tried to capture thieves. Then, they might actually do their jobs correctly.

He turned to the peasants with a pleased expression on his face.

He was taken aback by the laugh the black-haired man gave. It sounded genuine and warm, and Draco's stomach flipped. The man's hands were on his knees, bent over slightly in his mirth, and Draco couldn't seem to stop staring at him.

He was captivated by the emerald green eyes of the other boy when they met his own brown ones. He felt a pull towards those green eyes, as if all of his hopes and dreams lay in them. His breath caught in his throat.

Draco opened his mouth to say something—he wasn't sure what—when the brown-haired, much more boring peasant spoke up and broke Draco's trance.

"Do we have to bow to you too?" he asked awkwardly, who looked slightly older than Draco himself.

Draco coughed and shuffled his feet.

"Um, no it's unnerving," he answered.

It seemed like the black-haired, green-eyed boy had stolen his use of proper speech as well as his breath.

"Oh, good," the boy chirped.

Draco was fifty percent sure he was being sarcastic.

"I'm Harry, and this is Colin," the boy introduced himself, bowing slightly. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he added with a flourish.

 _Harry,_ Draco thought. _Is it too soon to say I love you?_

"Draco Malfoy," he replied, holding his hand out for Harry to take.

He did, and Draco was afraid that he would never let go. At the same time, he didn't want to stop holding Harry's hand, but that would probably get very awkward, so he quickly dropped it. The tingling, warm feeling lingered on his palm.

"It's great to meet you," he added, a little breathlessly.

* * *

He meant it, even after Harry stole all of his money and his comb.

 _I really can't blame him,_ Draco thought as he hoisted himself up the wall separating the palace and the marketplace, hours later. _His hair really needed to be brushed, anyways._

Draco mourned the loss of his new comb (and Harry, not that he'd ever admit that out loud) for a moment before he got ready for bed.

He really wasn't as selfish as he seemed. It was just easier to pretend that he was, to be the way everyone expected.

He supposed that everyone had a mask that they wore; uncle Ronald wasn't as violent as he seemed; Lucius wasn't as indifferent as he pretended to be; mother wasn't really as spoiled as she played; aunt Hermione was a lot more, actually _a lot_ more, chatty than she had to be.

Draco thought it was easy to pretend, to wear a mask for his father.

But then he thought of Harry, and he realized that Draco had gotten exactly what he saw: a boy who was charming and bitter at the same time. A boy who probably had to steal to eat.

Draco's brain froze for a moment, and then he recalled where he'd heard those words before. He thought back to when he was young, perhaps twelve, and Gin' was telling him about the Potters; the only kind people she'd met apart from her brothers George and Charlie.

 _"One of the first things that Lily and James Potter told me was 'gotta eat to live, gotta steal to eat.' They finished each other's sentences, like your uncle Fred and George used to do long before you were born," Gin' said, smiling softly._

 _Her brown eyes were sad, and Draco assumed it was because Fred wasn't alive anymore._

Draco used to have this dream, when he was around six or seven years old, where he'd get to meet Harry Potter, the boy that Gin' said was a year older than Draco. Lily and James would be there, too. He'd be able to give them food, because he knew how much they needed it.

But Draco grew out of those dreams, believing that he'd never get the chance to see the Potters. It was a silly aspiration, to be able to help them like his mother once did.

Now, Draco stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, eyes wide open in shock.

 _I met Harry Potter . . . he stole my things. That counts as helping, right?_ he thought.

 _Yes. It should count for something,_ he reasoned, nodding.

He had to wonder: where were Lily and James? And was Draco able to help them, too?

He bit his lip, deciding that it didn't matter anymore.

 _As long as Harry is okay_ , Draco thought, remembering Harry's grin as he ran away from Draco, the stolen bag hanging off his shoulder.

 _It was worth it_.


	5. Chapter 5

_Because of the content of this chapter, I'm bumping the rating up. I don't know how this wound up becoming this, but I hope you enjoy it. Of course, there's always an innuendo or two slipped into my stories, so you can obviously expect that here as well._

 _ **New warnings:**_ _implied/mentioned prostitution; implied/mentioned underage; implied dub-con (as its own warning and applied to the first)_

 _ **A/N:**_ _Not all of the warnings are in this chapter, but are applied later in the story. Also, I apologize for the 'flashbacks.' I wasn't sure how to signify the change in memories and the conversation. So I used an emdash to do it._

* * *

Draco Malfoy may or may not have been pining for Harry Potter, even weeks after their meeting. He would sometimes sigh for no apparent reason, thinking about the thief he'd fallen so hard for. Draco had gained a little weight due to his habit to eat when he was upset. He tended to lock himself in his dimly-lit bedroom when his thoughts got to be too much.

He wasn't moping. No. What he was doing was a much more refined yearning worthy of a prince.

Draco was brushing his hair and trying his hardest to style it. His hair never wanted to cooperate with him and, normally, Aunt Hermione helped him because she herself had experience with hair troubles. He watched himself in the mirror, feeling calmer and more relaxed than he had in weeks. A sudden flash of red hair in the corner of his vision made him jump. He scared easily.

Gin' leaned against the wall by the door, staring at her son, not appearing to notice Draco's fright at her sudden appearance.

"What is it, mother?" Draco asked as calmly as he could, looking at her over his shoulder and trying to calm his thundering heart.

"You seem upset, Draco," Gin' said, cutting straight to the point like she always did.

"I'm fine. Really," Draco lied.

He managed to keep his composure even though he was internally moaning his woes in the hopes that his mother would hear them. He'd never see Harry again and all he wanted to do was _tell_ someone.

"Draco. I am always here to talk, you know," Ginevra said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I know. I just. . . I'm not sure that you'd understand," Draco said quietly.

His shoulders slumped.

"I don't have to understand, Draco. I just need to be here," Ginevra replied softly.

She had a very good point. He nodded and his mother walked further into his room. Draco scooted over on the bench he sat on so his mother could sit next to him.

"So tell me. What's been plaguing you?" Ginevra asked.

She picked up a brush and sat behind Draco, brushing his hair back from his face.

Draco was thankful that he didn't have to face his mother. This was a lot harder than he thought.

"Well . . . I sort of snuck outside of the walls a while ago," Draco said timidly.

He heard Gin' snort, her brushing never ceasing. He took that as his cue to keep talking.

"And . . . I may have met someone," Draco continued, dread building in the pit of his stomach.

"Really?" Gin' exclaimed.

She sounded excited. Draco turned to look at her, confused. He wasn't _allowed_ to meet people outside of the walls. She'd always discouraged him from the idea of marrying for love, mostly because he knew that she was forced to marry Lucius. If that wasn't a loveless marriage, Draco didn't know what was.

"Yes, but . . . " Draco trailed off, not quite knowing how to tell her that the someone he met was a _man_.

"Well, who is he?" Gin' asked impatiently.

Draco startled so badly that he nearly smacked his mother in the face. She let out a soft _oof_ as she leaned back so quickly to avoid Draco's hand that she practically fell off the bench. Draco would've felt bad about it, but he was too stunned to care. He didn't even realize that he'd knocked her over until she grabbed his shoulders in a tight grip to keep herself from falling on the floor.

"How did you know?" Draco asked, dumbfounded.

"Know what?" Gin' asked, sitting herself upright again.

She looked slightly annoyed with her son, trying to catch her breath again and adjusting her hair. Draco missed the times when his mother left her hair down, she hadn't done that in years.

"That I met a _boy_!" Draco huffed, literally crossing his arms and pouting at her.

Gin' rolled her eyes.

"Dragon, it's something I've known since you were thirteen," she deadpanned, fixing him with a stare.

Draco blushed.

"Is it that obvious?" he asked, glancing behind him, half-expecting to find his father standing in the doorway, looking like he was planning all the ways he'd kill Draco.

"You do not have to worry about your father," Ginevra said casually, sensing his thoughts and fiddling with the hairbrush, avoiding Draco's gaze.

"Oh, um, okay," he said.

He really didn't envy Lucius. Who knew what Gin' did to convince the man to overlook Draco's apparently obvious preferences?

"Draco," Ginevra said softly, picking up the brush again. "You know that you'll have to marry a woman," she all but whispered.

Draco bit his quivering lip. He _knew_ , of course he did, but that's not what he wanted. He couldn't do that to his wife, or to himself. And could he even produce an heir? He didn't know. He sure as hell didn't want to find out.

"Mother . . . I can't," Draco said.

His voice broke on the last word. Oh, boy, now the tears were falling. He didn't want to draw his mother's attention to them, so he let them come.

"You have to, Draco," Ginevra said sternly.

He could hear the slight tremble in her voice, but he didn't turn to look at her. It broke Draco's heart to hear his mother basically take his father's side. He didn't know that he'd placed so much trust in her until she'd gone around him and told him to do the _one thing_ he wouldn't do. It was even worse because she _knew_ he couldn't go through with it.

"I. . . I know," Draco whispered.

Ginevra set the brush down and wrapped her arms around her son from behind, resting her head between his shoulder blades. She was soft and warm, but it did little to comfort him.

"I'm sorry. Will you tell me about him?" she asked quietly.

Despite himself, Draco smiled softly. He grabbed his mother's hands, threading his fingers through hers. She snuggled closer to him. He wanted to push her away, to yell at her, but that wouldn't be productive for anyone.

"His name's Harry," Draco stated, a little dreamily.

It probably wasn't healthy that he got so distracted when he thought of the thief, but he couldn't help it. He was immersed in the memories—albeit brief ones—about the black-haired boy.

—" _Do you_ ever _cut it?" Draco asked, lifting a hand to pull lightly on a strand of Harry's unruly black hair._

 _Harry grinned and batted Draco's hand away, eyes alight with amusement._

" _Never," he said._ —

"He has black hair that looks like it'd be a nightmare to tame," Draco continued, grinning now, oblivious to the way his mother stiffened.

— _Draco walked next to Harry, precariously balancing all of his purchases as he tried in vain to shove them in his bag._

" _Here, let me help," Harry said, smiling charmingly at Draco._

 _He held the bag open wider so Draco could dump his belongings into it. Draco tried so very hard not to blush._ —

"He's kind," Draco told Ginevra.

Draco pushed away the thought that Harry had actually been stealing his stuff when he had "helped." He couldn't be mad at him. After all, Draco didn't really need any of those things and neither did his family.

—" _So. . . I take it that you're from the palace?" Harry asked, no trace of bitterness or resentfulness in his voice, only curiosity as he stared at Draco._

 _They were sitting in a dark alleyway, away from the sun and the crowds. Colin had disappeared into a brothel earlier with a small fortune that had seemingly appeared from nowhere and hadn't come out in a while. Though Harry had explained that Colin was only there to see their sister in all but blood._

 _Draco didn't dwell too much on that thought._

" _Yeah. Born and raised there," Draco said, somewhat awkwardly._

 _Harry had only hummed in thought, picking absently at a loose thread on Draco's bag._ Is it normal for people to sit so close together? _Draco wondered. He could feel Harry's breath on his arm and shifted nervously._ —

"He's not judgemental," Draco said after a pregnant pause.

—" _I should probably get back home. My father will skin me alive if he finds out that I've been outside the walls," Draco said, only half-exaggerating._

 _Harry looked up at Draco through his eyelashes, a blush tinting his cheeks._

" _It was great meeting you, Draco," Harry said softly._

 _He leaned up and wrapped his arms around a stunned Draco, and the blond closed his eyes momentarily at the warmth Harry provided in the rapidly cooling night._ —

Well, Draco knew now that Harry had only been stealing the rest of his money, but a guy could dream, right?

"His eyes. . . they're like emeralds, mother. I—he's so handsome," Draco said breathily.

He felt drained now that he'd said it all out loud. He held his mother's hands lightly in his own, looking at her thin fingers. He heard Gin' sniffle and—

His back was wet from his mother's tears.

"Mother? Are you okay?" Draco asked, twisting in her arms to look at her.

She was crying, but she looked so relieved, like a giant weight had been lifted off of her chest.

"Harry Potter?" she asked thickly, looking at Draco with wide eyes.

Draco nodded, and Gin' let out a sob.

"Mother?" Draco asked tentatively.

"Oh, Draco. I'm sorry that I never told you. . ." Ginevra said, wiping her eyes.

That was how Draco found out that Harry was an orphan and that he was supposed to be dead too. Somehow that felt worse than the bit about Draco's inevitable arranged marriage.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco would probably feel guilty for the rest of his life for doing it, but he just couldn't stay in the palace. He knew that if he disappeared, Gin' would probably be forced to have another child, and he was aware that she hated Lucius to the point of celibacy. He always assumed it was because Lucius was just an asshole in general, but then he realized that it was because Lucius had gotten Lily and James Potter executed.

Even with that knowledge, he couldn't just sit around and wait to be wed to a woman he didn't want. That wouldn't be fair to either of them, because he knew that there was someone who _could_ love her that way. Who was Draco to deny that woman her happiness?

The thought was what led to him kissing his mother goodnight two weeks after their first and only conversation about Harry, packing his bag, and then sneaking out to the garden wall.

It was much easier to get over the stone when there was a rope to help him, but Draco managed well enough on his own. It only took him forty-five minutes.

Draco was well aware that he had no idea where Harry lived—if it was even a single place. All Draco could do was try and trace his steps back until he found what he was looking for.

It took a lot of wrong turns, a run-in with a questionable-looking man, and bruising his knees from tripping on the uneven cobblestone, but Draco finally stood in front of the shabby building that had been stuck in his memory for a month.

He scrunched his nose as he heard the most unpleasant sounds coming from inside, and he flushed deeply. The smell was awful; from weeks of use, the sheets the brothel had were simply thrown out instead of washed. Blood and sweat stained the cloth and Draco held his nose as he stepped around those. He didn't like to think much about the other substances on them.

Draco was starting to regret coming here, as soon as he stepped inside to see women in skimpy clothing just laying about, clearly in some sort of funk as they nodded numbly to the men who leaned down and whispered things in their ears.

The door shut behind him, and he nearly gagged. It was like all the fresh air had been zapped from the room and left him with the stench of alcohol and sweat, to name a few of the things he could pick up on. It was sickening, but it was how things worked. He didn't have any way to fix things, now that he couldn't just walk back to the palace and demand that his father change it.

He tried to block out the noises coming from the rooms both above and beside him as his eyes skimmed around the poorly lit room.

There was a staircase in the back of the room, being vomited on by a very drunk man. Draco was trying very hard not to turn back around and forget about all this. It was tempting to go back to his cousins and pretend nothing had happened, but he couldn't.

He couldn't do that to himself, or to whichever unfortunate woman got pushed into his arms. He couldn't leave, especially now, seeing where _Harry's friend_ was living. He was going to fix that, without his family's help.

Draco's jaw set in resolve, and he looked around the room again, this time for a woman who might be wearing one of the necklaces Draco had bought for his family his first time in the market.

Draco had probably stood there for two minutes before he grew impatient and walked up to the nearest woman who was probably twice his age. She was draped over a couch, looking worn down, like she'd been beaten recently. Her blonde hair was plastered to her sweaty skin, covering up most of her nearly bare bosom. Draco wasn't sure if he should be worried or thankful.

"Excuse me?" Draco asked softly.

He brushed a strand of hair out of her face and she whimpered, twisting away from him. He frowned, but didn't try to touch her again.

"I'm looking for someone," he continued, and her eyes opened.

Her blues eyes were bloodshot, and Draco felt a wave of anger wash over him, directed towards all the men she'd ever been with. He couldn't explain where it came from, but she seemed so tired and he wanted to protect her.

She glared at him.

"Of course you are," she spat.

Draco realized too late how that must've sounded to her.

"No! No, I'm not—I didn't mean it like that," Draco stammered, flushing.

She raised a pale eyebrow at him, her eyes cold. He couldn't meet her stare, so he stared at the floor instead. Draco scrunched his nose; why did everything in there have to be so disgusting? He kept glancing back up at the woman, fidgeting nervously with his bag.

There was a very long pause before her eyes softened.

"Who is it?"

Her voice was gentle now. Draco suddenly felt very naked, like he'd just told her everything about himself in those few moments.

"Um, I'm not sure, actually. . . I only know that a boy named Colin Creevey visits her often?" he offered, rubbing his neck.

The woman took a moment to think, and then her face lit up. She smiled, and Draco nearly gasped. She looked so much healthier now.

 _She should smile more often_ , Draco thought.

"I know! You mean Astoria!"

Draco thought back on his conversation with Harry, and the name seemed vaguely familiar. He nodded slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

"I need to talk to Harry and, well, Astoria is my only connection to him," Draco admitted sheepishly.

The woman grinned, pleased by his answer. She stood up so quickly that she Draco jumped. Where she'd gotten the strength from, Draco didn't know. Or mabye she'd only been pretending to be ill? Draco honestly couldn't blame her if that was the case.

"You must be the boy that Colin mentioned," she said, then wandered to the stairs without elaborating.

Draco stared after her in confusion, then scurried to follow her as his body caught up with his brain.

"Wait . . . Colin mentioned me?"

The woman turned to him, smiling slightly.

"Blond, naive, rich, easy to steal from? Looks like you, kid," she quipped.

She even _winked_. Draco stared at her as she turned and stepped over the man and his vomit on the stairs.

He quickly followed her, patting down his pockets as he went.


	7. Chapter 7

Astoria was six years old.

Draco was horrified and disgusted until Narcissa Black—the blonde woman he'd first met—pulled him aside and said that the Blacks didn't let anyone touch a single hair on her head.

Draco relaxed at that.

"Astoria, would it be alright if Draco could stay here with you for a little while?"

Narcissa was soft and patient as she spoke to Astoria, explaining that Draco wasn't like the other men who went in and out of the brothel. The dark-haired girl seemed hesitant at first, but she eventually was convinced that Draco wouldn't do anything to her.

Draco tried not to feel hurt that Astoria didn't trust him. It wasn't a personal thing, who knew what the girl had seen? Still, he knew that he wouldn't hurt a fly, and that he could give off that impression wounded him a little bit.

He wanted to make her smile.

Draco walked up to the little girl and bowed so low the his hair brushed the floor. He heard Astoria giggle, a smile tugging at his own lips. He stood up straight with a flourish, then gently grabbed Astoria's hand and kissed it. She blushed and giggled again.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, dearest Astoria," Draco said in his best impression of his uncle George.

"Wow, such a charmer," Narcissa commented sarcastically before she rolled her eyes and left Draco and Astoria alone.

Draco didn't exactly know how long he stayed with Astoria, playing games and chatting with the six-year-old, but it was probably around midnight when Colin finally came around. Draco wasn't quite sure how he had stayed awake, or how _Astoria_ managed it either.

"Astoria!" Colin exclaimed upon entering Astoria's room.

Astoria shot up from the floor where she'd been attempting to braid Draco's hair and slammed into Colin's legs.

"Colin!" she squealed.

Draco smiled softly at the pair, noting how close they seemed. It was sweet.

"How's my little Storibook?" Colin asked loudly, leaning down and hoisting Astoria onto his hip.

Astoria giggled at the nickname. Colin's attention was completely on her as he affectionately tapped her nose, and Draco almost felt like he was intruding on something.

"I made a new friend!" Astoria said excitedly, her face glowing.

"Oh, yeah?" Colin asked, smiling slightly.

He glanced in Draco's direction, a knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Draco is like you! He's nice!" Astoria whispered as if it was some great secret.

Draco felt tempted to march down the hall and order the execution of all the—the _customers_ who were serviced here; cradle Astoria against his chest; flee back to the palace.

But no, Draco couldn't do any of those things, so he settled on closing his eyes for a moment and exhaling slowly so he wouldn't scowl. He didn't want Astoria to change her opinion on him _now_.

"Storibook, would you mind if I talked to your new friend for a minute?" Colin asked.

 _Colin is good with her_ , Draco thought absently as Astoria nodded her consent. Colin turned his gaze on Draco, and his heart sped up and his heavy breathing basically told Colin all he needed to know.

 _You know what? I'm just gonna go. . ._ Draco thought, but the words didn't quite leave his mouth. Was he even moving his lips? He had no idea. He didn't think that he'd like what Colin was going to talk to him about. No one had looked at him that way except his mother, minutes before she'd told him that he'd have to marry, despite knowing Draco couldn't do that to himself and the woman he was supposed to marry.

Draco hadn't seen Narcissa come back into the room, but she had and then Astoria was being passed between Colin and the woman like she was a cat. The little girl giggled and clung to Narcissa.

Draco wondered if Narcissa had a child. She would be a good mother.

"Draco," Colin said once the girls had left the room, voice low and heavy with unsaid words.

Suddenly, Draco wondered if he'd accidentally taken advantage of Colin's entire family and thrown two of them in the dungeons without knowing. What else could Draco have done to earn the dark gaze Colin turned on him?

"Uh, hi, Colin," Draco replied, fidgeting with his sleeves.

Lucius would've cuffed him on the back of his head and scolded him for it, but Draco bit his lip too. Lucius wasn't there to correct Draco's every mistake anymore.

The impact of what Draco had done settled on his shoulders in that moment, stunning him into silence. He had some of the worst timing, but better late than never, right?

Colin narrowed his eyes.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Colin hissed.

The blond was at a loss for words.

"Uh, I have to get married," he said.

Colin stared at him in distaste.

"So you came _here_?" Colin gestured to the walls of the brothel, eyebrow raised.

Draco felt his cheeks heat up.

"No, I can't do it, so I left the palace," Draco said quickly, trying to recover from his embarrassment.

"Well, go _back_ ," Colin said through gritted teeth.

Draco stared at him, feeling strangely hurt.

"Why?" His voice was small and nothing like the strong, powerful one he'd wanted to use.

"You can't be here. Do you know how difficult it is for Harry to look at you?" Colin asked harshly.

Draco flinched. He hadn't thought about that. Of course Harry wouldn't want to be around Draco. Ginevra and Lucius were responsible for the death of his parents!

Draco's shoulders slumped.

"He's—he's not strong enough to deal with that, no matter how much he'd like to pretend," Colin murmured.

Draco felt faint. He hadn't even considered that he might've been hurting Harry. Nothing the black-haired man had done with him had given him any sign that Draco had been hurting him. Then again, Draco didn't know Harry at all. Colin knew him better; cared for him more.

Draco suddenly felt like he'd somehow forced himself onto Harry. It was a horrible feeling and Draco's stomach churned.

Colin was still staring at him, his gaze heavy with blame and anger. Draco couldn't find any reason to be upset at Colin. The man was perfectly justified in his anger.

"I should go," Draco whispered, staring at the floor.

"Yes, you should," Colin said quietly.

Draco took a deep breath and hoisted his bag off the floor. He pulled the strap on his shoulder and left the room, brushing past Colin as he went.

He felt awful. The realization that he'd hurt Harry made him wonder how he could've been so selfish in the first place. He kept his head down as he left the brothel as quickly as he could.

He had nowhere to go. The world suddenly felt bigger than it had any right to be.

* * *

 _A/N: I'm sorry for the sporadic updates and the cliffhanger! Please review! Do you guys have any guesses as to where it's going? Any feedback is appreciated._


	8. Chapter 8

Draco didn't stop walking, even when he heard Narcissa and Astoria calling his name behind him. He finally had the opportunity to leave that awful place and he was only sorry that he couldn't take Astoria with him.

He was turning the corner when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into an alley. Draco yelped and struggled against the grip on his forearm. And then he noticed that it was Harry who had grabbed him.

"Harry, what're you doing?" Draco asked awkwardly.

Part of him wanted to stay there with Harry, but the more awkward and ashamed part of him wanted to pull away from the other man and _run_. Sure, he had nowhere to go and no one he trusted, but it was better than being in any position where he might hurt Harry.

"I'm taking you somewhere," Harry replied, peeking around Draco to look at the street they'd come from.

"But . . . but Colin said—"

"Oh, screw Colin and whatever he told you," Harry replied.

It was the exasperation in Harry's voice that made Draco stop. Maybe . . . maybe Colin had lied to him?

"You're sure?" he asked quietly.

Harry turned to him and smiled slightly. He reached up and patted Draco on the cheek, causing the blond to blush.

"Very sure," Harry said, winking.

Draco bit his lip, rubbed his neck, looked everywhere except Harry—

"Well, time's up, let's go," Harry said abruptly, tugging Draco's hand and pulling him into the street again.

Draco sighed and tried to catch up to the shorter man. He was somehow very bad at doing that. Maybe it was because he was trying to double-task by walking and _not_ grinning like an idiot.

* * *

"It's probably not what you're used to, but welcome to where I live," Harry said, collapsing onto a pile of blankets that Draco presumed was his bed. For some reason, that thought made Draco blush.

"It's a lot more than I was expecting, honestly," Draco admitted.

Harry threw back his head and laughed.

"I appreciate the honesty," he said, grinning.

Harry's house—for lack of a better word—was located in the back of an alley. Draco could see the practicality of it, no one could steal the small amount of items he had if they couldn't even find his house. Still, Draco felt a bit uncomfortable in the back of a dark alley where he could very easily see himself _dying_.

"So . . . what did you take me here for?" Draco asked, shifting awkwardly.

He had no idea why Harry would take him there, especially if there had been any amount of truth to what Colin said. Looking at Harry made him feel a bit queasy, so Draco focused his attention on the room they were in. It was mainly just the three walls of the buildings surrounding them and a bunch of curtains where the fourth wall should've been. Inside was Harry's bed and some containers Draco assumed Harry used to hold food and clothing.

"I brought you here because I know that Colin can't follow. He doesn't know where I live anymore," Harry said, suddenly serious.

"What?" Draco asked, blinking.

"Colin is very . . . possessive of me. Has been since we were kids," Harry replied vaguely.

He seemed to get lost in his own thoughts for a moment before Draco cleared his throat.

"Right," Harry said, blinking. "I wanted to know . . ." he trailed off.

Draco waited. Harry took a deep breath, looking nervous.

"I wanted to know if you would show me what it's like to kiss a prince," he said, looking up at Draco through his eyelashes.

Draco's heart pounded. He flushed. He had _no idea_ what to say . . . so he said the first thing that came to mind.

"How long have you been thinking of that one?" he joked, causing Harry to blush and roll his eyes.

"A while," Harry replied, a small smile on his face.

They laughed for a moment before Draco calmed down and took Harry's question seriously.

"I . . . wouldn't mind it," he murmured, looking at his feet.

"I wouldn't either," Harry said.

Draco's eyes flicked up to the other man. He took a step forward. And another. Harry did too.

Their lips met between them. Draco cupped Harry's face and the black-haired man sighed, resting his hands on Draco's waist.

It wasn't perfect, it was sloppy and tentative. Draco had never even _been_ kissed, but it was something. He liked the feeling of Harry's chapped lips against his own. He felt _safe._

~xXx~

 _A/N: I apologize for the shorter chapter, this one gave me a tough time. Been struggling with my mental and physical health lately, so many thanks to those of you who're reading this and still with me through my changes in writing style, pacing, tastes, etc.. It's officially been a year since I posted my first story, and though I wanted to write a special story for that occasion, I couldn't find the time or energy. The point is that I want to thank my followers who've been with me since the very beginning, you mean so much to me!_


	9. Chapter 9

There were thirteen of them at the table. The ones who were old enough to understand what had happened to Draco - what he'd done. Lucius, Ronald, George, Bill, Charlie, Percy, the wives and Lucy, the eldest child of George's. Twenty-six plates and twelve full stomachs. Twelve anxious faces, dutifully waiting for Lucius to say something. Thirteen at the table, when there should've been fourteen.

Gin' closed her eyes momentarily. Her son was gone; there was no turning back now, no pretending everything was fine, that he was just young. The linens of the table brushed against her hands she wrung them in her lap.

The dining table was lit by hundreds of candles on the chandelier. The table itself held dozens of smaller ones worn down from use. The room was uncomfortably hot with so many bodies and candles. Gin' shifted. Her skirts absorbed her sweat. She knew that, when she stood, there wouldn't be a single indication that her petticoat was soaked through with her sweat. She took a deep breath and fanned herself lightly.

"Draco left the walls," Lucius started suddenly. Lucy jumped, her knees jerking against the wood of the table and shaking the silverware, pulling everyone's attention towards her. She put her hand over her quickly-rising chest, blushing brightly. She cleared her throat. Everyone took their eyes away from her and back to the head of the table.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, genuinely concerned for her nephew. Gin' looked at her own hands twisting in her lap. She ignored the hunger pains in her stomach, her plate of food untouched, as she simply _waited_.

Lucius stood, slowly walking around the table. Gin' glanced up at him. He was flipping a piece of parchment over and over, his eyes burning. With what emotion, Gin' couldn't tell. She recognized the handwriting on the paper - it was Draco's.

" _Mother and Father_ ," Lucius started, reading from the letter. " _I'm sorry to say that I will not be marrying. I cannot stand the thought of laying with a woman and I hope you understand why I left_ ," he read. _"I do not wish to hurt my family, but I do not want to hurt who would've been my future bride or myself. Best wishes, Draco."_

It was so _quiet_. Gin' quietly seethed; that letter was meant for _herself_ and _Lucius_. Not their entire family. She listened to the crackling of the candles and Lucius' footsteps, a bead of sweat dripping down from her hair line. It ran down on her nose, falling down onto her hands. She let a shaky breath out through her teeth.

"Oh," Hermione gasped. Gin' could feel the woman's eyes on her, from across the table.

"There's more," Lucius said coldly. "Ginevra, why don't you tell us about why he _really_ left?" he asked, stopping directly behind the readhead and putting his hand on her shoulder. She flinched minutely.

"There's a man. Outside of the walls," she said clearly. Her brother, George, who was sitting next to her, put his hand on top of hers in a comforting manner. She looked up at him, seeing him smiling softly at her with sad eyes. Her lips twitched in a feeble attempt to smile back.

"Who?" Lucius asked, squeezing her shoulder. Gin' took a sharp breath. She had a split-second decision to make. She locked eyes with her brother and made her choice.

"Dark brown hair. Blue eyes. Stalky build. Vendor," Gin' said reluctantly. "Maybe 25 years old." She held her breath. Lucius' grip lessened on her shoulder, until his hand was removed entirely. Lucius kept walking around the dining room. George patted her forearm before pulling away.

"Should we send out a search party for Draco?" Ronald asked, monotone. Nothing except the red staining on his neck and ears gave away the fact that he was bothered by Lucius hovering behind him then.

Gin' glanced between her husband and her brother. Her stomach sunk, her heart shattering, as Lucius curtly shook his head. She remembered a time when Lucius loved her, loved their son, was _happy_ when Gin' told him she was pregnant. _Where did that man go?_

"No. I want this . . . _man_ found and executed. Draco will come back on his own," Lucius ordered. Ronald grit his teeth together before he nodded.

"L-Lucius," Gin' gasped. He didn't spare her a glance as he left the room, taking his wine glass with him and leaving the note on the table. Ronald stood and followed behind Lucius, one hand instinctively hovering by his hip though his sword wasn't there. Gin' took a deep breath, closing her eyes.

"Aunt Hermione . . ." Lucy started a few tense moments later. "What's going to happen to Draco?"

"Oh, Lucy. I don't know. He's smart though. He'll survive on the streets," Hermione murmured to her niece. Gin' leaned her head back against the chair she sat in, fighting back tears.

"But what if Lucius finds him?" Lucy asked, worry coloring her voice.

"He probably won't, Lucy," Charlie cut in. She nodded slightly, staring at the table cloth for a moment.

"Aunt Hermione, what did Draco mean by "I can't stand the thought of laying with a woman"?" she asked. Hermione sighed in frustration. Gin' sniffled softly.

"It means that he wants to lie with _males_ , Lucy," Percy said dryly, pouring himself more water. She sputtered and blushed.

"I thought everyone knew this already?" Luna, who had not contributed nor seemed interested in the conversation, commented. Everyone stared at her before they burst out laughing.

Ginevra's tears fell as she laughed along.

* * *

A/N: What're your thoughts on this new chapter? I liked writing it - Lucy isn't as experienced with the world yet. The next chapter is going to be related to this, in the sense that it's focused more on Lucius and Gin'. I'm hoping to finish up chapter eleven soon, so you guys can have a more fluent read. What're your thoughts on the different POV?


	10. Special: LuciusGin

_A/N: These are all the scenes I wrote pertaining to Gin' and Lucius, from the end of Ginevra's adventures to the start of the previous chapter. Lucius and Gin' have an extremely complicated relationship; one with denial and hatred, and loving in spite of it, of hating themselves because of it. I never showed the details, the "in between." I will not be adding time-tags to this. I felt it was important to post this before showing you what's happening with Draco, Harry, and Colin._

* * *

"If you must leave, leave as though fire burns under your feet." -Keaton Henson, _You._

* * *

"I don't know how to do this," Ginevra admitted, blushing bright red. She stood in her nightgown across from Lucius, not quite being able to tear her eyes away from him. The man was only wearing pants! She'd never seen a half-naked man before.

They'd just gotten married. Hermione had told Gin' that this was the time when they'd consummate the marriage, even though Gin' hadn't asked and didn't really want to know.

She had no idea how to consummate a marriage, or what it entailed. She was nervous.

"That's alright," Lucius said softly, walking near her. He was a good foot taller than her and she had to tilt her head back to look at him.

"I don't even know how to start," she whispered.

"Let me take the lead, then," Lucius replied. He stepped a little closer. A little bit more. They stood so close that she was pressed against his body. She couldn't help but reach her hands up and run them along his pale torso. She heard Lucius suck in a breath.

"Okay," she said breathily. He leaned down and kissed her. She closed her eyes and let him.

* * *

"Ginevra, you're looking a bit bigger," Luna commented airily. Luna, Angelina, Hermione, and Gin' were all sitting in the garden and having what Lucius liked to call a "tea party." The four women liked to think of it as a time for catching up and talking without children to interrupt. It was a bit lengthy, but they didn't really want to use "tea party" because Lucius was always smirking when he said it.

Gin' flushed and subconsciously wrapped an arm around her stomach.

"So?" she asked indignantly.

"So," said Angelina, leaning forward in her seat, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "You're married now."

"And?" Gin' prompted. She knew exactly what the others were getting at, of course. She was just going to make the journey there as difficult as possible.

"It's around the time that you should be expecting," Angelina said knowingly.

"Expecting what?" Gin' asked, blinking innocently.

"Oh, dear God," Angelina said, frustrated. Ginevra laughed and Hermione set down her book.

"Obviously, she's just trying to get on your nerves, Angie," Hermione said matter-of-factly before returning to her book.

Ginevra rolled her eyes.

"We're right though, aren't we?" Luna asked curiously, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes," Gin' replied, grinning.

"Ohh! That's great!" Angelina squealed. Gin' thought that she'd rather go drown herself in the fountain than hear that noise come from Angelina's mouth again.

"Let's just hope you don't die in childbirth," Luna commented absently. Ginevra, Hermione, and Angelina stared at Luna.

"Did I say something?" the blonde asked.

"Oh, you've said _so_ many things," Hermione muttered. Angelina and Ginevra laughed.

* * *

"Lucius, can I speak to you?" Gin' asked nervously. She tugged on a strand of her long hair as she waited for Lucius to look up from his book. He was sitting in a comfortable-looking armchair by the fire.

"Yes?" he asked, removing his eye-glasses and setting them down on top of a thick volume in the study.

This was the room where they first met, where Gin' had found herself terrified of Lucius. Now, she thought fondly of the blond in his nightclothes, his long hair untied and eyes soft. Gin' sat across from him, taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to stall, she already told herself that it would do no good and Lucius would probably get annoyed with her.

"I'm pregnant," she said. Her heart pounded in her chest. Moments passed with Lucius just staring at her. She was starting to worry and bit her lip. Maybe she should've eased Lucius into it.

"Really?" he asked, finally seeming to register what she'd said.

"Really," Gin' confirmed, nodding. Lucius laughed.

"Oh, my God! I'm going to be a father!" he said, standing up. Gin' stood up too, feeling immensely relieved. He was _laughing_. He was _excited_. Her heart flopped when Lucius abruptly hugged her.

"We're going to be parents," he breathed into her ear. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

"I'm so glad," Gin' mumbled. Lucius held her tighter.

* * *

Ginevra couldn't sleep. Her baby was kicking, and he or she wasn't being very gentle about it. She was glad that the morning sickness and loss of appetite had passed and, _of course_ , she was eight months in and almost ready to get the kid out of her.

She thought she was going to have a boy. She wanted a girl, but a boy was fine, too. She already loved the baby and its gender wouldn't change that. She and Lucius even agreed on names: Molly if it was a girl and Draco if it was a boy. It was a miracle that they agreed on _anything_ , but this baby seemed to be who they both adored.

Gin' smiled softly and rubbed her swollen belly. Her feet were getting a bit cold, but she couldn't be bothered to lay back down and get warm.

"Ginevra?" her husband mumbled sleepily from beside her in bed, sitting up.

"Lucius," Gin' said softly, turning to look at her husband. "He's kicking." Lucius, who had been groggily rubbing his eyes, sat up straighter and scrambled over to her.

"Can I—" he asked, awed, not even able to finish his question before Gin' tugged his hand onto her giggled a bit when Lucius gasped.

"He's kicking!" Lucius exclaimed.

"Yes, he is!" Gin' replied happily, amused by Lucius' enthusiasm. They spent a moment laughing jovially, because they were _having a baby_. It was like it just now hit Gin', even after eight months of having a tiny human inside of her.

"Oh, God, will you two shut up? Yeah, you're having a kid, _big news_ ," came Ronald's annoyed, sleep-muffled voice from outside their door. Gin' covered her mouth with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter when Lucius rolled his eyes and flipped off Ronald through the door.

"Go away, Weasley," the blond replied loudly. The couple heard Ron's mutterings as he moved away from their room.

Ginevra was still giggling when Lucius turned to her and smiled. _Really_ smiled. Her heart froze in her chest, the laughter drained out of her. Her husband gently grabbed her hands. His hands were soft and caring like they were when he held her on their wedding night and every night they spent together after.

"Ginny," Lucius whispered. She'd never been called Ginny before. She . . . liked the way he said it.

"I love you," he breathed.

"Oh," she gasped. She didn't know who leaned in first, herself or Lucius, but their lips met in a soft kiss as though it was their first. She gasped when their baby kicked again. Her hands went to her stomach. Lucius' mouth curved into a smile and he broke away from her, placing his hands over hers on her belly.

"I love you, too," Gin' said softly.

* * *

"Ginevra," Lucius greeted warmly. She didn't reply. Instead, she turned away from him and watched her six-month-old child fuss a little in his sleep. The bed dipped slightly when Lucius sat next to her.

"Ginevra, what's wrong?" Lucius asked, his fingers brushing her arm.

"Don't _touch_ me," she said coldly. Her hands shook. She felt as though something in her had clicked into place; some great truth revealed that she'd been too stupid to see before.

"Ginny."

"No, _don't_. I can't—not right now," Gin' replied.

"At least tell me what I did," Lucius demanded.

"You've _murdered someone_ ," she whispered, horrified, her vision blurring with her tears. Lucius sighed. She could practically _feel_ him trying to come up with an excuse. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _In, out_.

"It wasn't like that. We don't have the resources to care for prisoners right now—"

"Like hell you don't," Gin' spat. She was sick of Lucius, of his lies and promises.

"I can see that it's pointless to try and be reasonable with you right now," Lucius said icily. She could hear the anger lacing his voice. For once, she couldn't bring herself to be scared. She scooped up Draco from his crib and started towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Lucius asked.

"I'm going to go sleep somewhere else."

Lucius was quiet as she left the room. It hurt more than she thought it would.

* * *

Gin' felt like her entire soul had just been stripped away from her. Draco was _gone_. Her baby boy was gone and he was never coming back. He'd left her a note, put it on his pillow. He'd kissed her goodnight and left after she fell asleep

She was so shocked that she stumbled and tripped her way to the bench in front of the mirror. This was the bench she combed Draco's hair at, the bench that he told her all about the boy he'd fallen for. The bench that she'd basically told him to throw away all of his dreams.

"Ginevra?" A voice floated over to her from the doorway, concerned and knowing.

"He's gone, Lucius. He's gone." She whispered the last words. Lucius sighed and walked further into the room, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms around her.

"We can look for him," he murmured. Gin' felt torn. She wanted Draco back, of course. But she knew he'd find a way out again, because of Harry. Draco didn't belong in a palace, didn't fit in enough to be a prince.

"What would happen if we don't find him?" Gin' asked, looking up at her husband with careful eyes. She pushed him away slightly, because grief or not, she wouldn't fall back into her husband's arms. _Never again._

Lucius gulped minutely.

"We'd have to have another child," he said. Gin' _knew_ that. Of course she did. But to hear it from Lucius in such a serious setting . . . it felt like the last nail on her coffin. Gin' took a shaky breath and laid her hand on the vanity.

"But I can't," Gin' whispered brokenly. Lucius bit his lip for the first time she'd ever seen.

"I know," he replied softly. "I know."

Three weeks. She had three weeks to live.

* * *

Ginevra had never heard her husband cry. She'd never seen him break down and sob like he was doing then. She had woken up in the middle of the night and instinctively reached out for Lucius, only to find his side of the bed empty. She wandered around until she found him, on the balcony of Draco's bedroom, sobbing.

The sight of it . . . the _sound_ of it, broke her heart. She knew what was going to happen, not that it was her's or Lucius' choice, no matter how much they wanted to change it. She knew what it meant for her to be infertile and child-less.

Ginevra Malfoy was just a waste of space now. She couldn't live if she couldn't produce an heir. She didn't know if Draco would come back, or if Lucius would ever find him. But she did know that she'd die _loved_ , if Lucius' cries were anything to go by.

She wiped a tear from her eye and walked up behind Lucius, hugging him for a brief moment before moving away.

"Come back to bed soon," she said softly on her way out. He didn't.

 _Never again._


	11. Chapter 10

Harry sat in the dirt across from where Draco was sleeping on the bed. His arm rested on his knee, head resting on the wall behind him. He was starting to question everything he knew ever since Draco showed up. He thought he knew how things were, how he felt and how things were always going to end for him—and then he went and _kissed_ Draco. That wasn't supposed to happen, and neither was _falling_ for the blond. He wasn't quite at that point yet, but he could be if things kept going the way they were.

Still, it was an opportunity that he wasn't against taking advantage of. If he could somehow get Draco's help with finishing it . . . or perhaps he could just convince Draco to get him inside the gates—

He was snapped out of his thoughts by someone whisper-yelling his name from around the corner. He was going to ignore it, but jumped up when he heard yelling and crying from down the street. He hurried to see what the commotion was, and see who called for him, and stumbled against the wall for a moment when he saw what was happening. The street was lined on both sides with people, kingdom guards roughly pulling people forward to the center of the street, where they deposited them in the dirt. They were searching for someone. He could make a guess as to who it was.

 _Fuck_.

He realized then that Colin was beside him, reaching to grip his arm and pull him down the alley. _Double fuck_. How did he get here?

"Colin, let go of me!" Harry hissed, ripping his arm away and turning back to get Draco up and running. It would not be good if the guards found him. Thankfully, they were mostly hidden in the darkness of the alley, so they had time. Not a lot, but enough to get away.

Harry knelt beside Draco, shaking him awake, glancing down the alley repeatedly, freaking out more and more when Draco wasn't waking up. It was steadily getting brighter—the guards were going further down the street, closer to the alley, and Draco was taking ages to wake up. The prick was out cold—if they were dragged out in the street too, it was going to be his fault.

"Why are you bothering with him?" Colin asked in disgust. "Just _leave him_!" Harry ignored him. Draco was important, whether Colin understood it or not. Harry glanced over again to see that there was a guard at the end of the alley, lantern in hand, and he was walking towards them.

"The three of you, get into the street! Leave your belongings," the guard said to them.

"Shit," Harry murmured, sighing in frustration before hauling Draco's limp body onto his shoulder, knees almost buckling under his weight. He took a deep breath, heart thundering, before turning and running the opposite way from the guard. He heard Colin's footsteps behind him, the guard yelling that there was a runner, and he nearly stopped to turn and see why he wasn't being followed by the guards.

When he ran out of the other end of the alley, he realized why. He ran straight into a tall red-headed man, who gripped his arms tightly and stared grimly down at them. He heard Colin scurry up the wall, abandoning them. Typical.

"S'pose you're it," the man said gruffly, looking like he didn't want to be in this position either. It dawned on him that they weren't looking for Draco. They were looking for _him_. Harry met the man's eye and replied:

"S'pose I am." The man's eyebrow cocked up slightly, and his lip twitched, almost like Harry had told a joke that he liked. He let out a breath, almost like feeling the air leaving his lungs was like the hope leaving too. Still, Harry stared, trying to think of a way out of this, but there wasn't much he could do with an unconscious Draco slung over his shoulders.

"Harry . . . ?" Draco slurred tiredly, deciding in that moment that it was a great time to wake up. _Speak of the devil._ Harry felt like laughing. What a horrible situation. He didn't expect that it would get any better from there.

"Put the prince down," the man commanded. Harry clenched his jaw and did as he was told, trying to put Draco down as gently as possible. The blond drowsily stared up at the man and Harry, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

"Uncle?" he asked, and Harry turned to stare, incredulous. . . Maybe this could help the situation.

"You don't happen to be a vendor, do you?" Draco's uncle asked Harry, looking amused again.

". . . No," he replied, confused.

"Clearly doesn't have blue eyes, not a vendor, not stocky," the redhead murmured to himself, almost grinning at that point. "You're good to go. You check out," he said. Harry stared at him, eyebrows raised, glancing between him and Draco. _That_ was not a sentence he would ever think he'd hear, and especially not in a situation like this.

He was about to ask for clarification, before the redhead turned around and continued to question and inspect the other citizens lined up on the street. Harry turned to look down at Draco, eyes wide with shock.

"So, your uncle, huh?" he asked, shaking off his surprised and relief and the million other emotions flooding through him. Draco grinned up at him, shrugging, and Harry gave him his hand to help him up.

"Thanks." Draco brushed off his hands, patted his pants to get the dirt off, and then met Harry's eye. "Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Yes. You can," Harry replied, smiling softly and pushing Draco back towards the bed.

 _What in the world just happened?_

* * *

A/N: Was gonna have Ron bring them in, but decided it would speed up the plot way too much, and I wanted just a few more chapters of Drarry before that shiz happens. Sorry I haven't written anything in a while. Hopefully I can finish this one up soon for you guys.


	12. Chapter 11

A/N: Don't hate me for what I wrote this time around. Some dub-con elements, though vague and I don't get into it much. You can skip the part in italics if you don't want to read it. You might be slightly confused later, but it should clear itself up at some point. Also, sorry if the characters seem off. It's been a while since I wrote them. :/

* * *

Draco couldn't sleep. After being woken up so roughly by Harry (which was not pleasant in the slightest, except for maybe touching Harry for an extended period of time), he didn't think he'd be able to go back to sleep. He was restless. It was _cold_ , too. He couldn't exactly go sit by the fire and slip on some warm shoes, because there was no fire and there were no warm shoes. He sighed for what was probably the millionth time.

Maybe he should ask Harry if he would sleep with him. If Draco was cold, Harry probably was too, right? It could help them both. Maybe Draco wanted to touch Harry again, and feel his body against his own, and maybe kiss him. He winced, rolling over, telling himself that wasn't right to think about Harry like that, especially when he was laying five feet away. And besides, it would be for warmth that he would request for Harry to sleep with him. Nothing else. It was best not to get his hopes up anyway, because Harry might not even be awake.

He debated with himself for a few more minutes, though it seemed like ages, before gathering up the courage. It felt like he took years to do anything.

"Harry? Are you awake?" he asked, some words coming out as a whisper and some not. He wanted to smack his forehead—he did _not_ want to sound like that. Nervousness wasn't attractive.

"Yeah. Why? Can you not sleep?" Harry replied, sitting up. Draco licked his lips and sat up too. He squinted in the dark, just making out Harry's shape. He hadn't even seemed tired or annoyed, immediately sitting up and asking questions. Part of him hoped that he had been laying there, wondering what it would be like if they slept in the same bed too.

"No. It's cold," Draco said, tucking his feet under his legs, hoping that would help him warm up. He hoped he didn't sound too whiny when he said that. He bit his lip when Harry didn't reply.

"I can't really help you with that," he said after a pause, sounding frustrated. Draco frowned, a knot forming in his stomach. It seemed like it would be a no if he asked, but then again, he would never know if he didn't try.

"Could you—could you sleep with me?" Draco clenched the blankets under his hands as he waited for Harry's reply. He really hoped it would be a yes.

But there was no reply, and for a couple of seconds, Draco worried that he'd done something wrong. That he'd stepped over a line that shouldn't be crossed. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, eyes watering and cheeks heating up from embarrassment and rejection. He jumped when he felt Harry grab his arm, hand warm and strong.

"Move over a bit," Harry whispered to him, and he did, relief flooding through him. He didn't do something wrong, and Harry was actually going to sleep with him— _next_ to him. It wasn't anything more than that, and he shouldn't want or expect more.

Draco laid back down, pulling his legs closer to himself to stay warm, with Harry close beside him. He wanted to ask to be held, but didn't think Harry would be okay with that. He also wanted to roll over and sleep facing Harry, but he wasn't sure how that would be taken either. He bit his lip and decided what he wanted more.

"Could you hold me?" Draco whispered, sounding—even to his own ears—unsure and scared. Again, Harry didn't say anything, but silently wrapped an arm around Draco's waist and pulling him closer. Draco's back was against Harry's chest, and he could feel his breaths on his neck. He felt himself relax more than he could ever recall doing, quickly falling asleep in the warmth and comfort that Harry brought.

~xXx~

Harry worried that he would take too long to get what he needed from the market, with how people were moving after last night, and he was concerned about what Draco would do—he might worry and do something stupid. The blond tended to do that kind of stuff.

After last night, people were still afraid and hesitant. There were a handful of people taken by the guards, all matching the same description, and all of them were vendors. It wasn't good, considering half of them had decent prices, so Harry didn't have to steal from them. He wasn't made of money—no one was except for Draco and his family—and everyone understood that. Some people, however, still decided that they didn't have enough in life and kept taking more.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if almost all of the decent sellers had been taken the night before, leaving only the slimy ones. That meant Harry either had to steal, not buy anything, or use Draco's money. He wasn't particularly fond of any of those solutions, but he needed food, and so did Draco. There were other ways he could get money, but he felt like it was wrong to do it, especially now that he had a prince who worried about him and was naive to everything that happened in the world.

Harry was too proud to ask for money (or anything, really) from anyone. Including Draco. He already had something he was going to have to ask Draco for, so he supposed he was just going to have to steal to eat. He'd prefer not to, because that was just unnecessary danger, but he didn't have the money to pay for anything that was being sold.

If he could find Colin, he could probably talk enough out of the man to buy a meal. It was safer than stealing, which would be fine any other day, except the day that Draco was relying on him. He sighed, rubbing his forehead. He was just going to have to deal with it. What was a little sucking up again if it meant he could live for another month?

~xXx~

 _Harry wiped his mouth, grimacing at the taste on his tongue and in his throat, getting off of his knees. He spit a hair out of his mouth, wiping it off his chin and frowning slightly in disgust, rubbing his hands on his pants afterwards. He stretched his arms behind his back and, as he did so, was pulled back onto the ground by Colin. He sighed internally, staring at the dirt as Colin pulled him so Harry's back was against his chest, his chin on Harry's shoulder._

" _You're getting really good at that," the older boy said gently. "I think you deserve a reward." Harry perked up a bit at that. It wasn't often that he got back what he gave, and when he did, it was pretty nice. He turned back slightly to talk to Colin._

" _Can I?" he asked softly, hope clear in his voice._

" _Yes. I think you're ready to try something new," Colin replied. Harry could feel the boy's smile on his bare shoulder and his hot, sweaty hand moving down his back. He anticipated what they were going to do in silence, without moving. It was best not to ask, or it might not happen._

 _He thought afterwards, laying on his side next to Colin yet again, that maybe he should've asked what they were going to do. He didn't think he liked that one._

~xXx~

First, Harry went back to Draco to let him know that he might be gone for a while, but not to worry—and to say that he should not leave to go anywhere at all. Otherwise, Harry wouldn't be able to find him again with the amount of people walking out today after the search last night. It seemed like people didn't want to feel alone and apart from the ones who were taken. Harry had found at that all seven of them had been executed in front of the gates, as was custom for public executions. The thought left a sick feeling in Harry's stomach—that should've been him. Even though he didn't _want_ to die, it had been him they were looking for. Yet, he had been given a chance to keep living when seven men died because none of them could confess to knowing Draco Malfoy.

Harry tried to push that out of his mind as he walked towards Colin's usual hangout place. Part of him wondered why he was even going there. He could just turn around and ask Draco if he could borrow some money for food. He could nick some bread off the table he just passed. He could just starve. Literally anything—he rolled his eyes at the exaggeration—would be better than going to see Colin.

Every time he sought out the man, he usually ended up doing something he regretted. The only time he didn't was when he had Colin follow along to go steal clothing to sell. He ended up bumping into Draco that day, and Colin hadn't gotten the opportunity to give one of his "proposals" to Harry. There hadn't been an exchange of services the day that Harry met Draco, and every day since then that Draco was still there.

For that, he was grateful. He just didn't think he would ever be able to pay Draco back for that, unless he counted getting him back to the palace as repayment. But it wouldn't really count, because Harry would be the one asking to go, not Draco. If everything worked how he wanted it to, that was.

He shook his head and sighed in frustration. Draco didn't _want_ to return to the palace. It took a bit for it to sink in, but now that it had, he was steadily losing hope that the blond being there was going to be anything except distracting and, as much as he hated to admit it, tormenting to him. How could he kill the parents of someone he cared about? How could he even continue to _plan_ it when, at night, Draco asked if Harry might sleep with him? Asked if they could cuddle?

Harry was starting to wonder what the fuck was wrong with him. He was divided, and he didn't know why or what to do anymore. The answer seemed so obvious. He'd dedicated years to the plan, done so much preparing—he couldn't throw it all away now.

His parents deserved better than what they got. They weren't buried. They didn't even get the opportunity to have their ashes separate from Alice's or from each other's. Their bodies were burned together, as all the dead prisoners were. How was that right? He never even got to say goodbye. They never got a chance to explain.

Draco's parents were to blame for that, and his uncle, and the guards who did it. They deserved a worse fate than what his parents got. They deserved worse than what Harry planned to give them. Had Draco not run away, he probably would've planned to kill him too. As far as he had known, all of them were rotten to the core. Who wouldn't be, when living with His Royal Highness, Lucius Malfoy?

Harry snarled, kicking a rock as he thought about that man. But then, his thoughts turned to Draco's uncle, who gave him a pause. He wasn't as bad as he would've thought, as he didn't eagerly jump to execute him, but still traded seven men's lives for his own. Why did it have to be so complicated?

"Harry, nice to see you." Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. Relief flooded through him when he saw Narcissa walking towards him from the direction he was heading. It had felt like years since he'd seen her. He was glad for a friendly face—it was grounding. He needed that.

"Narcissa," he greeted warmly, almost inclined to hug her, but not feeling comfortable doing that with her dress only covering parts of her. Her tired eyes gave him an understanding look when he just stood there, slightly awkward about it. "Where were you coming from? Not from the market, I see," he commented, wondering what she'd been doing.

"I went to see Colin. He stole some money from me last time you two were here. I went to get it back," she said angrily. She pulled out a couple of coins from the shawl looped around her waist. Harry clenched his jaw momentarily, before calming back down. Colin never knew when to draw the line.

"Bastard," Narcissa murmured, shaking her head. Harry snorted, and she smiled to herself as she slipped the coins back within the folds of the cloth. He liked seeing her smile like that, and he wished he could do that more often.

"I'm on my way to see him now. I'll hit him for you, if you want," he joked, grinning down at her. She rolled her eyes.

"Nah, he's not worth the effort. Besides, he went to go see you. I'm surprised that you haven't seen him already. He left a while ago," she said. Harry furrowed his eyebrows. That didn't seem right. If Colin had passed him, the man would've noticed. He practically stalked Harry. So either they never crossed paths, which was unlikely, or Colin lied about what he was doing.

"What?" he asked, tense. _Something is wrong_.

"He said he had to go clear some things up with you and Draco. Should I have held him there a bit longer?" Narcissa asked, worry in her voice. Harry bit his lip and turned around, almost hoping to see Colin's head disappear around the corner. Of course, he didn't, and looked back at Narcissa to assure her that things were fine.

"No. It's okay. I just need to go. Goodbye, Narcissa. Thank you," Harry said, turning and running back to Draco. He had a feeling about what was going to happen, and he just hoped he could get to Draco before Colin ruined everything.

~xXx~

When Harry got back, lungs burning, Draco wasn't even there to return to.


End file.
